


Cups ("We're Not Telling That Story")

by BlakeBroflovski



Series: Sentiment [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Gen, Noodle Incident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 13:44:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1607234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlakeBroflovski/pseuds/BlakeBroflovski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A companion/prequel piece to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/983204/chapters/1936932">It's Funny Because Eren Can't Read</a>.</p><p>The story of how Eren and Levi met. The year is 844. Eren is nine. Mikasa has not yet been introduced.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cups ("We're Not Telling That Story")

**Author's Note:**

> Since this is a one-shot, it is considered complete, though the story arc is ongoing and expands beyond it. Be sure to bookmark the [entire series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/57837) if you'd like to be kept up to speed with updates for the entire arc.
> 
> The "we're not telling that story" subtitle refers to a line from Eren in Chapter 22 of ECR.

As long as you can remember, they've been stopping at your house on their way back through.

You never know when the Survey Corps is going to leave, and if they do, when they're going to come back, and there have been times that you've been out playing with Armin or performing chores and you've missed them.  Whenever you can, though, you like to watch from your window as they leave the walls, and you try to be home when they return for medical treatment so you can see them firsthand.

You've always been interested in the idea of leaving, always been frustrated and resentful at the idea of being cooped up inside these walls like a bird, always felt like the air in here is somehow staler and dirtier even though you know it can't be true.  But ever since Armin showed you his grandfather's book, the desire to leave has eaten at you like burning.  You have no idea what the words say, and you're too ashamed and nervous to ask Armin to tell you, but you like to imagine the fantastical stories they weave of the seas of salt, the vast jungles, and the mountains that belch rivers of flame in the world outside the walls.

The Survey Corps gets to see it.  They're the ones fighting and sacrificing their lives to ensure a future where someday all of humanity will get to see it again.

You adore them for that.

Not as much as you adore _him_ , though.

In your few meager years of life, you've seen countless waves of Survey Corps returnees parading through your house, an endless stream of unremarkable and unmemorable faces.  Most of them only come through once.  There are several you've come to recognize, and from the way your father talks to them, you can discern they're some kind of authority figures within the Corps — especially the one he calls Keith, who your mother refers to in a tight voice as Commander, and the one he calls Erwin.

Your mother has caught on to your intense idolization of the Corps and their ideals and is adamantly opposed to the idea of you spending time in their company, but sometimes, the treatments are too severe and numerous for her and your father to handle alone, and your assistance is required; you're not sure why your mother has taken charge of overseeing medical operations when it's your father's profession, but you don't argue because it means you get to interact with the Corps.  Sometimes you manage to slip past her notice entirely and wander among them as they drape themselves across chairs and benches in your home, or watch out the window as they relax outside.

When you look out to the right and press your face as tight against the far left pane as you can, you can see him leaning against your house, one ankle crossed over the other.

The first time you see him, he seems strange, but you can't put your finger on why.

He's shorter than everyone else by at least a full head, but he's _ripped_ , the bulk of his muscle showing in the bands of his neck and the taut tendons of his fingers as he meticulously scrubs a linen over one of the buckles of his harness, pulled so snug against his thick upper legs that the muscle overflows around the straps in bulging swells.  You've seen enough ill-fitting maneuver gear on rookies to recognize a good fit when you see it, and he's clearly quite experienced with finding the proper tightness, but you swear this is the first time you've seen him.  You would remember those hands.

You would remember his eyes, too — his eyelids are hooded and half closed as if he's falling asleep where he stands, his expression bored and detached, but there's something brewing in his cloud grey eyes that reminds you of yourself when the kids on the street try to attack Armin.  Beneath his asocial demeanor, there's a deep and dark anger you know all too well.

You wonder where he comes from.

You'd love to hear him speak, but he doesn't.  He doesn't acknowledge anyone but Erwin, and even their limited interactions seem distant and forced.  You can’t hear well enough through the window to discern what his voice sounds like.

It's only a matter of time before your mother catches you staring and either recruits your help or, more often, kicks you outside to play.  You want to peek around the side of your house at him, but the one time you try, another soldier notices and giggles at you, and you run away in embarrassment.

When you play Survey Corps with Armin, you pretend you're him, but only in your head because you wouldn't know how to say it aloud without sounding stupid.  You don't even know his name.

At last, a time comes when your mother is sufficiently swamped that she doesn't realize you're watching at the window, and you stare in silence as your muse polishes not only his harness buckles, but each of his blades one by one until the linen is soiled, and then he pulls out another cloth and moves on to his boots.

He's scrubbed every inch of the left one clean and is moving to the right when Erwin places a hand on your shoulder from behind.

His voice is deep and gentle and way too close in your ear.  "You like him, huh?"

You try to ignore how uncomfortably close he is to you, and nod without pulling away.  "Who is he?"

"His name is Levi.  He's from the Capital."

 _Levi_.  The name is branded instantly to your mind, tattooed over every pore of his figure, etched into every hair and carved into his fingernails as he digs them into the linen and scrubs the seams of his boot.  You've never seen anyone from the Capital before, and the knowledge changes the way you look at him, the things your eyes choose to pick out of his form.  He looks young, his features soft with youth, but his hands have a hardness to them that indicates his body is far more worn than it seems, the set of his shoulders betraying a tired familiarity with combat that no newly recruited teenager would know, let alone one from the posh comfort of the Capital.  You can't reconcile the matured, boorish soldier in front of you with this information, and you can't believe he came fresh out of the Capital and into the Corps looking like that.  There must be more to his story.

"Is he new?"

Erwin pats your shoulder as a reward for your observance.  "Brand new.  He just enlisted in the military a couple months ago."

That would explain why you're so sure you've only started seeing him recently, but his appearance is pretty incongruous.  Besides, he couldn't have only been in the military for a few months; training takes at least three years.  Either you're misunderstanding Erwin's vague wording, or he's lying… or — the most attractive possibility and the best explanation — Levi is talented beyond your wildest imagining.

Your voice cracks when you ask, "Is he good?"

Erwin's chuckle sounds like the rumble of distant factory motors.  "He's very good, as strong by himself as an entire squad.  He can take out three titans in the time it takes six of us to bring down one."

You're pretty sure Erwin doesn't lie, but just the same, you're hesitant to believe him.  You've never seen a titan, but you know they must be incredibly hard to defeat, because so few of the Corps returns alive after every mission.  For him to be able to take down so many by himself, so quickly… your eyes widen, glued to Levi's figure as if you'll die if you look away.  "Really?"

"Of course.  By the time he came back from his first mission, he already had more kills under his belt than half the Corps.  He's got the record now."  You can't prevent your jaw from dropping; you're outright gawking at Levi through the window, and you know if he looked over his shoulder he would catch you easily, but you can't help it.  He must be some kind of god.  Erwin's voice behind you holds a sagacious smile.  "They say he's the strongest human alive."

The way his jacket strains against the pull of his powerful shoulders, you'd believe it.

You don't get the chance to say so, though, because your mother catches you at last.

She calls your name, shock pulling her voice into a shriek.  " _Eren!_   What are you _doing_ in here?"  The sound of your name makes a weight of fear and dread drop in your stomach, and you scoot back from the window.  She scrambles over to you, her apron smeared with something dark red that you hope is a cooking dye, and snaps "Go outside and play!" as she shoos Erwin away from you.  She spears a glare into him that you know all too well from when you get in trouble, the glare that says _you know better and I am disappointed in you_ , but you don't know why she'd give it to him.  He departs with a friendly wave for you and an impish smile for her.

Your mother ushers you out the back, where you have no chance of spying on or running into Levi, and slams the door on your shirt tail.

Inside the house, you can hear people bustling around and the occasional barked order from your mother, and it’s so active you know there’s no chance you’d get away with sneaking back in, so you sit on the stoop and stare toward the distant Wall Maria.

You’ve learned so much in the last few moments, and you’re not quite sure how to handle it all.  You’re not surprised to hear of his talent, having built an imposing image of him in your mind based on looks and posture alone, but you never would’ve guessed he was from the Capital.  And at last, you have a name.

You decide the best way to digest your newfound information is to play Survey Corps with Armin.

He rushes to the door when you knock, but waves you inside instead of coming out to greet you, insisting in a hushed mumble that a few of the bigger kids have been trying to beat him up and he’s not sure yet if they’re gone.  You’re too wired to sit inside and play quietly or attempt to read, which you can’t even do anyway and would only make you more agitated at this point, but you don’t want to pressure him into an uncomfortable situation.  After saying hi to his grandfather, who tips his straw hat at you, you persuade him to agree that if you take a walk around the house and don’t see his aggressors, he can come outside and play.

You sprint around the house far too quickly for him to be truly comfortable and you don’t pay enough attention to know whether you missed any concealed figures in back alleys, but he concedes anyway.

He stands facing you, his wooden switch clutched in a trembling hand, and his voice trembles almost as much when he says he’s not sure who he should be this time.

“You can be Major Erwin!” you cry with such immediacy that he blinks back surprise.

He usually plays an anonymous lookout character, or maybe Ness, in charge of the horseback strategy, but he nods quietly and murmurs, “Okay.”

You brandish your own switch in front of you like a rapier, and you declare, “I’m going to be Levi!”

Armin cocks his head at you, a wrinkle of confusion forming between his delicate eyebrows.  “Who?”

“The strongest human alive!” you exclaim, giving your makeshift sword an experimental swing.  Armin steps back, out of your range, and makes a wordless noise that you know means he doesn’t understand but he’s at least appreciative that you’re happy.  “He’s got the highest kill record already and he’s only been going on missions for like, two months.”

Armin gives you a scrutinous look.  “Is this a real person, or are you making him up?”

You nearly drop your makeshift sword as you whirl around to stare at him, almost offended at this accusation.  “He’s real!”

Armin just makes that appreciative noise again, and you roll your eyes, electing to let it go.  You can hear a couple voices around the corner that sound like the kids who routinely target Armin, and you think it’s high time you and “Erwin” got around to fighting some “titans.”  Armin doesn’t seem very pleased with this idea, but he at least agrees to formulate a strategy of attack.

By the time the sky darkens so much that you and the bigger kids can’t find each other anymore, Armin says in a shaky voice that his parents will get worried if he’s not home for supper, and you figure it’s probably time for you to go home too.  You walk him home and approach your own home from the front, hoping to see a few soldiers still leaning against your house.  Your hands shake as you step into view, short of breath at the idea of coming face-to-face with Levi, but no one is there.  You’re not sure if you’re relieved or disappointed.

Your mother frets over your scrapes and bruises and goes to find “any clean linen, anywhere” to tend them with.  Your father chuckles to himself through his nose and asks you to wash up before you eat.

Months go by before the Corps returns.  At first, you worry that they’ve been disbanded, but you try to convince yourself that’s a stupid theory; you would’ve heard something about that.  After all, you’ve heard a couple whispers on the street about Levi, who has already been promoted to a squad leader rank.  They’re calling him Humanity’s Strongest.  You guess Erwin really wasn’t making it up to tickle your childlike sense of wonder.  You’re pleased, but not surprised.  Of course Levi is awesome.  You’d expect no less.

You’re pretty sure Armin still thinks you’re inventing him, or that you’ve created the character based on the spare few rumors that have reached Shinganshina, but you can’t prove it to him because the Corps haven’t come back in months and your father, who would know and be able to back you up, has been taking longer and longer leaves of absence.

Your father returns and attempts to schedule a trip with you to visit one of his colleagues, but cancels at the last minute because he’s received correspondence that the Corps will be making another expedition during it and his medical expertise will be needed when they return.  You don’t really care about any of that, though; you’re just excited to see Levi again.

Unfortunately, your mother has wised up to your sneakiness and tells you that if she catches you “interfering,” she won’t feed you dinner.  You’re pretty sure this counts as child abuse and try to say so, but she won’t hear it, and you know you’ll be treading on dangerously thin ice if you attempt to circumvent her this time.

Hannes allows you to tag along inside the wall gates and up to the ramparts as the portcullis opens.  He insists all the while that if your mother hears about this, you’ll be as dead as he is, but you ignore him because you can pick Levi out of the formation and he’s _so cool_.  He rides next to Erwin, their respective squads aligned behind them, and you’re pretty sure they’re talking but you can’t see well enough to tell.

As they ride under the gate, it occurs to you that you can see the world outside the wall.

You’ve seen it before, when you were little and your mother hadn’t realized how intent you are on leaving, and you don’t remember any of the things Armin described in the book.  Looking out now, it looks pretty much the same as it does inside Wall Maria, and for a flickering moment, you’re touched with doubt.  What if you get outside and it’s just more of the same?  What if there’s no point to it all?

But then Erwin and Levi blast through and spur their horses to a gallop, and your hope swells.  There’s more out there than this.  There has to be.  They wouldn’t fight so hard to rip down this cage if there wasn’t a bigger world out there to fill.

Hannes returns you to Armin’s home, and his grandfather lazily agrees to testify that you’ve been here the whole time if your mother asks.

She doesn’t.  She’s too busy doing laundry at the speed of light to wonder where you’ve been all morning, and your father doesn’t bring it up.  You think he must know, judging by the way he glances at you, but he doesn’t say anything, so you don’t either.  You move from one seated location to another all day, too restless to sit still and too anticipative to leave.

It’s nearly sunset when you hear the bells signifying the gate being raised, and you’ve formulated an idea.

You’re going to meet him this time.  You’re going to do it.

You’ll tell your mother you’re going to play with Armin, but really, you’ll wait around back until the Corps have all settled, and then you’ll sneak around front and approach him like it was a total accident.  He won’t be able to resist your adorable demeanor or your fiery passion for the military.  And if he does resist and you can’t enamor him, you’ll just have to annoy him.  It’s the perfect plan.

But when you head for the back door and call out that you’re going out to play, your mother stops you.

You pause, your hand on the door latch, and stare back at her with a mixture of incredulity and shock.  She just told you this morning that you’d better stay out of the way under punishment of starvation, so why would she keep you in now?

Your father enters through the front and removes his hat.  His face looks paler and tighter than usual behind his glasses, and he exchanges a grim look with your mother.  Suddenly, you know why you’re not allowed to leave.  The damage is worse than they’d anticipated, and they’re going to need all the help they can get, including yours.

For a moment, your heart leaps.  “Does this mean I can hang out in here?”

She gives you the you-know-better stare and you wither, balling your hands up into your shirt hem as she says, “No.  You’re going to stay in your room and come out when I call you.”

This is the worst possible outcome.  Your bedroom window doesn’t afford you a vantage of Levi’s favorite position.  You let out a loud groan of frustration.  “Oh, come _on!_   That’s stupid!  How am I supposed to see anything?”

“You’re not,” she says flatly, and moves to start setting up the table as a surgical station.

You hear hoofbeats approaching on the dirt road outside, and you know that’s the end of that conversation and you’d better get out of sight before she starts throwing things.

You drag yourself into your room with a morose sigh and take your time closing the door behind you, hoping she’ll call you immediately.  She doesn’t.

You try to play with wooden toys, but the sounds of the Corps moving around and tethering horses outside your house has you leaping on top of your bed and pressing your face to the window, trying to see what’s going on.  Your window doesn’t have a good enough view, though, and after several fruitless minutes, you give up.  The front door squeaks open and clacks shut constantly, boot steps making thunder across the wooden floor.  You can hear the voice of the Commander, his gruff murmur too distant and muted for you to understand, and the voice of Erwin Smith, its deep tenor pulling you off the floor as if magnetized every time he speaks.

You still don’t hear Levi.

You wouldn’t know what he sounds like, anyway.

The constant commotion has you _certain_ your mother will call you out at any moment, but she doesn’t.  Her voice calls out orders and requests from others, but not you.

You resign yourself to sitting on the floor with your head on your knees as the sky goes dark.

She’s clearly not going to need you after all, so you guess you might as well brush your teeth and prepare for bed.  You open the door and slide into the washroom, and the moment you do, your mother shouts your name.

You peek your head around the corner and find Erwin and your father tending to someone lying face-down on the table.  You don’t get to look into the rest of the room, though, because she calls, “Bring me a glass of water, please!”

You groan.  Of course that’s all she wants — not actual help, not something that will get you _involved_.  You slouch into the washroom and retrieve the glass you use when you’re thirsty in the middle of the night.  You debate washing it out first, but figure you don’t have that kind of time because she must be pretty desperate if she’s recruited other soldiers to help and saved you as a last resort.  You fill it from the tap and move into the main room, careful to not slosh any water out of the glass.

Your mother spots you and calls across the room, “Bring it here, please!”

At the sound of her voice, you look up to try to locate her through the maze of soldiers, and what you see stops you cold.

Levi is standing there, leaning against the entry doorway.

And he’s looking directly, unmistakably, at you.

Your heart stutters and stops, your throat closes up, your hands going numb.  You think you hear the sound of something shattering at your feet but your ears are too fuzzy to tell, and you think your bare toes get splashed with something but you don’t register it.  He’s giving you a stare you can’t read, but it looks pretty similar to your mother’s you-know-better look, and you have absolutely no idea what to do with the endlessly expanding void of space between you and your hero whose voice you’ve never even heard.

_He’s in your house._

You turn on your heel and you run.

Your mother screams your name after you, alarm and irritation putting barbs in her words, but you ignore her, ignore it all.  You run to the washroom and jump into the laundry hamper, pulling a towel over your shoulders and huddling in the dark.

You really hope you never see him again.

**Author's Note:**

> _**[continue to Mirror ⇒](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1612709) ** _


End file.
